Thursday, July 24, 2014

Two Brothers and a Wedding

Finish That Thought: #2-3 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and [decay], assail [me] as [I] approach the table.
Special Challenge: Include a deception that backfires

Photo courtesy of jusone @
The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and champagne assail them as they approach the table. In matching black tuxes with paisley print vests, burgundy bowties, and silk cummerbunds, the Winthrop brothers slither inconspicuously past evening gowns and rented tuxes to the laden buffet. Upon it rests silver platters of fresh fruit mostly of the exotic variety, two large crystal bowls boasting freshly tossed salad, and towering tiers of dainty crab cakes, lobster canapes, and bacon-wrapped scallops.

Percival Winthrop rubs his long fingers together with glee before picking up a porcelain plate. “What a feast we have today!” he chortles to Wilfred. His twin twirls his sophisticated whiskers as a smile stretches from ear to ear.

“Indubitably, my dear Percival.”

“Have you tasted the champagne yet?” Percival asks while emptying the scallops from the top of one tier onto his plate.

Wilfred pats his lumpy cummerbund and his grin widens to encompass half his head. “It is sublime. Of course, I would not expect any less from the van Hortons.”

Percival’s hand hovers over a crab cake. “Dearest Wilfred, you know the bride’s family?”

“Read about them, read about them,” Wilfred assures Percival. The crab cake joins two others and the scallops as a buxom lady dripping in furs and diamonds thrusts herself between the brothers to unload a tier of its lobster canapes. She eyes Percival’s plate and chuckles.

“You eat like a van Horton, but you don’t look like one!” she observes.

“We’re merely indulging in the eating customs of the bride’s family to make them feel welcome,” Wilfred interjects.

“Ah, so you’re on the groom’s side?” the lady asks.

“Yes, dear madam,” Percival says.

“How are you related?” she queries.

“We’re brothers, madam,” Wilfred explains smoothly. “Identical twins, if you could not tell.”

“I mean to the groom,” she persists.

“Second cousins on his father’s side,” Percival adds. “To which side of the family do you belong, madam?”

“I am the groom’s mother,” she says pertly. “And I don’t recollect any second cousins on the list.”

“This is a sticky wicket,” Wilfred says with an arch to his brow and a twirl to his whiskers.

Percival slides the scallops into his jacket pocket, much to the surprise of the lady. “Shall we depart this scene, my dear Wilfred?”

Wilfred links his arm with Percival’s. “Indubitably, my dear Percival.”

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